#though pop culture rhetoric has tried to pin her down

[itspileofgoodthings]

my least favorite thing is a controversial pop culture sensation of one kind or another where the conversation surrounding it falls into only two camps and every time the issue/person/couple comes up you hear EXACTLY one (1) of two (2) arguments about it and nothing else and it’s so stale you know exactly what will be said before it’s said and deviation from the script on either side simply never happens.

[thanks--for--listening]

Siren Call

okay i’ve been convinced lol so here it is. another BOP fanfic. DinahxHelena but pre-relationship bc thats my fav thing to write. also on ao3

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It always happened in the quiet moments. The early hours of the morning, when the leftover energy from a mission hadn’t quite disappeared yet. The sleepless nights, when memories clawed their way into her mind and wouldn’t let go until her screams released them. The lazy afternoons, when the radio played softly and melodies she’d almost forgotten danced around her lips. It was only when the world went still that Dinah felt her watching. 

She didn’t remember the first time she noticed it. The staring. Maybe it was because Helena was always watching everything and everyone around them that Dinah didn’t realize how frequently that attention fell on her. How it felt different. Helena looked at the world with suspicion and anger and indifference, but not her. She looked at her with something much softer, something she hadn’t found a name for just yet. No word in her arsenal was deep enough or strong enough to describe it.

Whatever it was, she could feel it now. 

The question she longed to ask sat on her tongue but she forced it to wait. She just wanted a minute, because they were both sitting here, and the silence between them was comfortable and easy and precious. They were all still getting used to this living together thing, but right now, sitting with Helena, both of them done with breakfast but not ready to move on with the day yet, felt like the most familiar thing in the world. It was early enough that the sun had both risen and was still rising, it’s light shining through their window at an angle that, when Helena sat in the kitchen chair in front of her, made her look almost angelic. Dinah gave herself a second to appreciate the view.

“What do you see,” she finally asked, “when you look at me?” 

Helena’s eyes widened, and Dinah couldn’t help but laugh. “I—I don’t—I don’t look at you,” she said, her eyes now uncharacteristically cast towards her lap. Dinah followed her gaze, saw her hands fidget with the hair tie around her wrist. It hadn’t taken her very long to discover that the Helena who showed up during a fight was a completely different person than the Helena who showed up anywhere else. Fight Helena never got nervous, never second-guessed herself. She was all confidence and muscle and focused rage, nothing like the woman in front of her, quiet and awkward and hesitant, avoiding eye contact and twisting a hair tie in her lap over and over again. She didn’t know how she could have two completely different people inside herself, how she found a balance between that. If she found a balance. 

“You look at everyone,” Dinah answered, “but not in the same way.”

“What do you mean?” She didn’t know if it was a genuine question or a way to deflect, but she answered it anyway. 

“You know,” she said, “like Harley. Every time you watch her, you always get confused. Your eyebrows scrunch up right here,” Dinah pointed to the spot on her own forehead, and watched Helena mirror her, “and your eyes get a little squinty.”

“They do?”

Dinah nodded. “And Renee, you always look a little scared of her. Which is crazy, because you could totally beat her in a fight. Don’t tell her I said that,” she added quickly, glancing at the room where Renee was sure to be in bed for at least another two hours, “but you totally could. And yet when you’re with her, there’s always at least one moment where you get so...skittish. It’s like the elephant afraid of the mouse.”

Helena smiled, just barely, and Dinah felt a warmth that the sun couldn’t provide. “I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit,” she said softly. “She could beat me.”

“Oh, she’d make you work for it,” Dinah said, “but when it comes down to it, my money’s on you, Crossbow.” Helena’s smile grew, and she didn’t know if it was because of the sentiment or the nickname. She wished she did, if only so she could keep saying whatever made her look at her like that. “You know,” Dinah continued, “modesty is not something I would have pegged you as having after our first meeting.”

“What, you’re saying saving everyone’s asses didn’t make me seem modest?” 

“Excuse you, that was a team effort.” She joked, and Helena kept smiling, which made her smile, which left them sitting there, smiling at one another underneath the sunlight. “You know what, I take it back,” she said, pretending to look away. “You’re as arrogant as the rest of us.”

“Oh no, I’m heartbroken.” She deadpanned, and Dinah lost it. She didn’t really get it, but somehow everything was funnier when Helena said it. Maybe it was because she didn’t joke around that often. It was as if she didn’t know how to, or didn’t trust herself to be funny, but that only made it more special to Dinah when she did. 

They sat in that feeling for a while, the warmth of getting along. Dinah wanted to keep talking, but there was something about the silence she didn’t want to interrupt yet. So she watched, and she tried to memorize this moment, draw it out and stick it in her pocket so she could look back on it later and remember what it felt like to truly relax.

“Can I tell you something?” Helena said, and even though they were technically in the middle of a conversation, it still caught her by surprise. Helena wasn’t the one to break the silence. She seemed so comfortable in it. She could spend hours without ever making a sound. Dinah didn’t understand it. She knew she wasn’t Harley, who couldn’t stand any moment passing by without making noise, but Dinah still liked to have something to fill the space around her. It was what she was used to. The quiet unnerved her in a way that Helena seemed immune to.

She realized Helena was waiting for a response. She did that a lot. Stuff like rhetorical questions and sarcasm and pop culture references often went right over her head. Harley and Renee liked to poke fun about it, but Dinah secretly found it endearing. It added to her genuity. Made her really easy to trust, despite her inclination for silence. 

Dinah nodded, and Helena kept talking. “You’re why I stayed to fight. That first day.”

“Really?” 

“It was when you took the gun from Cass, when you fought for her. That’s what made me stay.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t tell,” she said, “with Harley. What her intentions were with the kid. But you — you wanted to keep her safe. I knew it. So if you were in, and you trusted the others enough to fight with you, then I figured I could trust them, too.”

Helena finished her sentence and looked up, almost as if looking for approval. Dinah smiled at her, and she watched as her shoulders relaxed just slightly. 

“Oh, I’m definitely telling Harley that,” she said, and Helena looked almost confused, so she added, “I’ve gotta rub it in her face. She still thinks it was her rousing speech that brought us all together.”

Helena laughed, an occurrence as rare as her starting a conversation. Dinah secretly thought it was partly her fault. She’d come to realize that Helena might have looked at each of them differently, but when she was watching the group all together, it was like she was studying them. Like she was learning how she was supposed to act with them. After their first team-up, when Harley and Cass stole her car, Helena had straight up cackled, but she’d stopped when she saw her and Renee. Something in the way they looked at her made her stop. In the couple months since then, she’d never laughed like that again. 

“Hey,” Helena said, “you never told me how I look at Cass,” and Dinah tried to control her face, she really did, but Helena noticed everything. It was almost annoying, how hard it was to hide around her. She didn’t always get what it meant, but she always saw the emotional stuff. Shifts in mood, tone changes, body language, none of it went unnoticed. She was blind to sarcasm but saw sadness before you even felt it. Dinah watched her process the shift she felt happen, watched her body tense back up again. “Sorry,” She said, even though Dinah knew she didn’t know why she was apologizing, “I—um, I shouldn’t have—“

“No,” she stopped her, “don’t. It’s not you. I just—“ she sighed. “With Cass, I noticed you...you always look a little sad. And I don’t know why.”

Helena gave her a look she couldn’t quite pin down. She almost looked scared, although of what she wasn’t sure. “I don’t want Cass to think she makes me sad,” she said after a minute, her voice so quiet Dinah could barely hear her from across the table. 

“It’s not that obvious,” she said. “It’s just...it’s like you’re seeing two things at once. Like you see her happy, and you look happy, but there’s something in your eyes that sees something else, and that’s what’s sad.”

Ten seconds of agony passed as they sat there, the words lingering between them, before the silence made her too restless. 

“What do I know, though, right?” Dinah said, with a smile that was only mostly forced. “Forget about it. I’m probably just making shit up, or—“

“I think you’re right.” Her voice was soft but the words were loud somehow. Dinah waited. She hoped the silence would do for Helena the opposite of what it did for her. Minutes passed, one right after the other swallowed up by the quiet. Helena didn’t talk like this very often, but when she did, she spoke as if every word mattered, as if each sentence was a puzzle and she had to wait to find the right pieces before she could put it all together. 

Eventually, she found them. “Sometimes, when I see Cass, and I see the life she has, I think...I think that we’re too late.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I think we saved her too late.” She looked up, and Dinah felt like she was staring right through her. “I think about the shit she’s seen already. I think about how we’re all she has, and I think that we’re not enough. I think that she probably wakes up screaming like you do, and I think about whether she’ll always wake up screaming or whether she’ll learn how to stop it, and I think that’s a terrible lesson for a kid to learn, and it makes me so angry but I won’t let her see me angry because I refuse make her life worse. And then I think that makes me really fucking sad.”

Dinah had never heard so many words come out of her mouth at once, each one more heartbreaking than the last. Helena just sat there, eyes wide and breath a little shaky. She could see her hands balled up in fists, could feel the pain rolling off her like waves onto a shore. She could feel the anger in the aftermath, tension in the air so thick she wondered how there was still any oxygen left to breathe, pain so heavy she wondered how Helena walked around every day without shattering under the sheer weight of it all.

Dinah couldn’t stand it. 

“Don’t freak out,” she told her as she stood up, “but I’m going to hug you now, because I don’t know the right thing to say and because I think you need it.”

Dinah walked around the table slowly, part of her waiting for a protest that never came. Helena just sat there, staring straight ahead as if it was the only thing keeping her together. It wasn’t until Dinah placed a hand on her shoulder that she acknowledged she’d left her seat. Dinah reached out her hands, waited for Helena to take them, waited until she’d pulled her up out of her chair, before putting her arms around her. 

Helena just stood there. Dinah had her head against her chest, could feel her heart racing and her body trembling, just slightly. She realized she’d never hugged her before, and she tried to think of the last time someone hugged Helena. Had Harley or Renee? Cass? Any of the men who raised her? Or had she not felt the comfort of familiar arms around her since before she lost her family? The thought made her squeeze tighter. 

She let go after a minute. Helena’s arms never moved from their position at her side, but Dinah didn’t mind. She looked up at her, and she thought she saw tears in her eyes, but it must have been a trick of the light, because she’d never once seen Helena cry. 

“I know talking isn’t really your thing,” Dinah said, “but you know if you ever want to, you can talk to me.”

She turned, walked back to her seat, but stopped when she realized Helena hadn’t moved, was still staring at the place Dinah had stood, as if she saw something that wasn’t there. 

“You alright, H?” She asked hesitantly. 

“I don’t know.” The words came out as a whisper. She looked over, and she wished she had Helena’s skill, because her face was a mosaic of emotions and Dinah couldn’t make out a single one. “Harley says I need therapy.”

Dinah chuckled. “We probably all need therapy. Harley included.”

“Yeah,” She said, but there was something in the way she spoke that made Dinah hesitate. 

“Do you…” She started, not sure if she was crossing a line in asking but also not sure she could just leave the conversation alone. “Is that...something you want to do?”

Helena didn’t say anything for so long Dinah wondered whether she was still here or whether she’d drifted off into her own head, whether she wanted Dinah to come find her and bring her back down to earth. “I don’t want to be angry all the time,” she finally said, her voice soft and strong and tired all at the same time, “but I don’t know how else to be.”

“I get it.” Helena raised her eyebrow at her, just slightly. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not just saying it,” Dinah sighed, the words coming out without her permission. “When I lost my mom, I spent so much time pissed off at the world. Part of me still is, I guess. It just always felt like if I wasn’t angry, then what happened to her was okay. Like, if I let go of my anger, then I’m letting go of the last thing I have of her.”

Helena was quiet again, and she knew she just had to wait for it, but she was impatient and emotional and desperate to fix what was almost certainly unfixable. “What happens when you do let go?” Helena asked.

Dinah shrugged, tried to keep herself grounded. Psychoanalyzing her traumatic past was not something she’d anticipated doing this morning. “If I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

Helena just nodded. Neither of them spoke for a while, until the quiet became too much, left too much room for her mind to wander. “How can you stand it?” She blurted out. Helena gave her a confused look, and she elaborated. “So much silence. You never seem phased by it.”

“Growing up, I was taught to meditate. I used to—“ she stopped herself, and Dinah was desperate to know the end of the sentence but knew she couldn’t rush it, had to wait and see how deep the well would go, how much Helena would give her if she showed she was willing to listen. “I didn’t stop hearing it for a while,” she finally said, and she didn’t lower her voice but something in the way she spoke felt different than before. “The shots. The echoes. The screams. But a killer who can’t live in silence will always get caught. So I had to learn. And now,” she shrugged. “Now I don’t mind it.”

Dinah almost didn’t ask, but she didn’t think she’d get another chance. “Do you still hear it?”

Helena sat very still, before nodding ever so slightly. 

“Yeah,” Dinah sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Me, too.”

“I know.” She must have made a face, because Helena hesitantly added, “I hear you when you wake up at night. I used to scream like that, too.”

“Used to?”

“Learning to stop was one of the first things they taught me.”

“And how did they manage to do that?”

Helena looked away, and she felt a pit in her stomach drop. “Ask me anything else,” she said, and Dinah knew it was both a deflection and an invitation, one she wouldn’t let pass on either account. 

“You never answered my first question,” she told her, and Helena glanced back up, and God, there was just something about the way she looked at her that made her brave and bold and desperate in a way she’d never felt before. 

“You’re the one who’s paying attention,” Helena responded. “How do I look at you?”

She wanted to tell her that her face was a language she didn’t quite understand yet, that every movement and shift was sending a message but when it came to her, she just couldn’t read them, or wouldn’t, because she didn’t know whether she saw what was real or what she wanted to see. “I don’t know,” she answered instead. “That’s why I asked.”

Helena was quiet again, but Dinah would wait ages to get an answer. She buried that realization deep into the back of her mind, let it sit there for her to contemplate later. Or never. Never worked, too. 

“When I look at you,” Helena started, and Dinah expected her to look away but instead she stared right at her, “I feel safe. And I haven’t felt safe in a long time.”

Dinah smiled. She didn’t realize how often she did that now. Ever since they started fighting together, ever since they started spending the time in between fights together, she hasn’t felt like she was waiting for the world to fall apart, like being happy wasn’t worth it because it was temporary. She wondered if that meant she was finally living. Not just surviving— living. 

She wanted to tell Helena it had been a long time since she’d felt that way, too, but she didn’t. She had a million things she wanted to tell her, things she’d never told anyone else before, and knowing just how badly she wanted it scared her in a way she couldn’t quite describe. When Helena looked at her, when she spoke, it was like a siren call, and Dinah felt every open every wound and sealed memory beckon to be released. More than anything, she wanted to let them go.

But not today. She knew that both of them had probably already passed their limit for emotional vulnerability for the day (or week), so she left it alone, let the words die on her tongue and silently vowed to give them life again soon. She had time, a realization that didn’t feel as daunting as it used to. The thought kept the smile on her face, even as she stood up. Grabbing both of their plates, she hummed a tune as she walked to the sink and hoped Helena heard her, hoped she knew that the song on her lips was for her and no one else, hoped she recognized it for what it was: a siren call of her own. 

[storywool]

Happy Birthday, Cap

Request:  Hey! Can you do Steve Rogers x reader? They fight, argue and tease each other, but secretly in love in love with each other and then one day somethaang happens and it slips?

A/N: So, I kind of went overboard with this one. It was too much fun writing not to go overboard, though. Let me know what you think!! 

Word Count: 5,621 

It comes once a year, like all holidays do, but this one has a different style. For instance, Christmas is usually characterized by family, love, warmth, and presents. Halloween is characterized by costumes, candy, and the things that lurk in the night. Valentine’s Day is characterized by love, candy, and happiness.

But the fourth of July, aka America’s Independence Day, is characterized by alcohol, grilling, and fireworks. Its energy is chaotic and wild, and takes no prisoners. Even if you’re not American, you celebrate the fourth of July, and if it’s ironic celebration, no one really cares.

Y/n was the latter type of person. She was American, born and raised, but didn’t honestly celebrate the fourth of July with pride. The America she lived in was nothing like the America the founding fathers wanted with they signed the Declaration of Independence back in 1776. The America she knew was tyrannical, evil, and spiteful. The America she knew cared more about its corporations rather than its people, and hundreds of thousands of Americans didn’t even have the resources to celebrate this day. How could they afford fireworks, food, beer, and all the other things associated with the fourth of July when they couldn’t even afford a roof over their head?

Though Y/n felt this way, she did still celebrate the fourth of July. She just kept the heavy chip on her shoulder as a reminder that she’s celebrating what America could have been, not what it currently is. Plus, it was Steve’s birthday, his 100th birthday at that. That was something she would celebrate wholeheartedly. Sam and Y/n worked all night decorating the common room with decorations. The most notable decoration was a piñata of an eagle wearing Uncle Sam’s hat. Y/n found it at a party store and just had to get it. They filled it with red, white, and blue themed candies. They also got loads of streamers, balloons, and a ‘pin the shield on Captain America’ game. She knew Steve would kill her for that one, but it was too good to pass up.

At nine AM that day, most of the compound (Y/n, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, and Natasha) dressed to the nine’s in America themed gear, grabbed noise makers and a speaker, and barged into Steve’s room blasting “Team America”. Y/n, Wanda, and Nat jumped up on Steve’s bed and blew the noise makers in his face until he had no option other than to wake up. When he was mostly awake, they sang “Happy Birthday” at the top of their lungs.

“Hey do you remember that one time I punched Hitler in the face?” Tired Steve asked.

“It’s not like you let us forget it.” Y/n replied as she took a seat on his bed.

“That’s because I want to remind all of you what I’ll do to people who piss me off.” He sighed and pulled the covers over his head. Y/n rolled her eyes and yanked the covers down so he would have to look at her.

“I guess you’re just gonna have to punch me in the face then because I’m not leaving until you get out of bed.” She grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him up to a sitting position.

“Come on Grandpa, it’s not every day you turn 100!” Bucky cheered. Steve traded an ‘eat-shit-and-die’ look with Bucky before sharing that look with Y/n. She just smiled at him, loving the misery she was putting him through.

“Says the guy who is older than me.”

Bucky scoffed, “By one year asshole.”

“Steve, come on. We’ve got lots planned for today!” Y/n pleaded.

Steve groaned loudly before throwing the covers off of himself and exposing his bare chest and boxer shorts. Y/n took a few extra moments to admire his chest and muscles, which were deliciously defined. The group cheered sarcastically as he sluggishly got out of bed.

“Can I have some privacy to get dressed?” Steve asked.

“I guess we can make that happen.” Y/n responded and jumped up from her spot. The group filed out the door, but Steve asked Y/n to stay back for a second. She really didn’t want to just because she knew she’d end up staring at his chest too long.

“Yeah, what’s up?” She tried to sound nonchalant.

Steve grabbed a t-shirt from his closet and threw it on over his head quickly. Y/n involuntarily sighed, letting go of a breath that she didn’t realize she was holding. “What embarrassing things have you planned for today?” He only partially smiled.

Y/n scoffed and crossed her arms. “I’m offended! When have I ever purposely embarrassed you?”

“Every time we go to the grocery store you try to embarrass me.”

“Well maybe they shouldn’t play such funky 80’s music. If they didn’t play that music, I wouldn’t dance in the aisle.”

“That’s a damn lie and you know it.” Steve laughed. Y/n smiled and blushed slightly.

“You also just make it so easy.” Y/n leaned against his dresser. They always bickered like this, ever since Y/n joined the Avengers. It was usually fun, sometimes even flirty, but Y/n and Steve were known to get into an argument every now and then. They often had the same points of views on issues, but they had different ways of going about it. Steve just did whatever he felt like doing, while Y/n paid a little bit more attention to the rules. “Plus,” she added, “You know how I feel about birthdays. I gotta go all out.”  

At least he should know how she felt about birthdays. She loved them and loved celebrating them. Life was something to be celebrated, and the day you came into this world should be part of that celebration. There didn’t have to be a big party or lots of presents; as long as you have your friends and loved ones, that’s all you needed.

But a big party definitely helped, especially when you’re Captain America and your birthday is Independence Day. This was New York City, home of Elise Island, so the city tended to go all out with the fireworks and celebrations. Y/n knew that Steve didn’t like fireworks because the noise reminded him of the war, so she thought a party would help to distract him from everything else. At least that was the plan.

“Yes, I do, but you still haven’t answered my question.” Steve said as he tied his shoes.

“Don’t you want to be surprised?”

“Y/n, I hate surprises.”

“No you don’t. You just hate the bad ones. Now come on.” She reached out for his hands, and he placed his in hers hesitantly. She pulled him up from the bed so he was standing and towering over her. God, he was so tall, she thought as she very obviously stared at his plump lips. She had thought about kissing those lips so many times.

Y/n, focus, she told herself.

They exited the bedroom and walked straight into the decorated common room. Steve’s first and only reaction was him rolling his eyes and sighing. “What’s all this?” He asked rhetorically.

“We were just getting ready for tonight.” Nat replied.

He turned to Y/n, “Um, what?”

“Your party, duh.” Y/n answered matter-of-factly. “Big day, lots of stuff planned, remember?”

They all headed to the dining room where they had a delicious breakfast prepared by the onsite chefs. They had eggs, bacon, waffles, and lots of other decadent delights. Once satisfied and full, Y/n clapped her hands, excited to get the attention of the group.

“Okay, so as we all know, we’re celebrating Steve’s 100th birthday today. Not many people make it to 100 and get to look the way he does.” Y/n and Steve traded a small grin, “And as much fun as birthdays are, they’re also reminders that life is short for most people who aren’t genetically modified super soldiers.” Steve and Bucky raised their glasses to each other, which earned a laugh from everyone at the table. “And because life is so short, we- and I mean Bucky and myself- decided that today, you should embrace life’s brevity.” Bucky turned around to a table behind him and grabbed a piece of paper that he handed to Y/n. It read ‘bucket list’ in big, messy handwriting that belonged to none other than Steve Rogers. Y/n turned the paper to face the group.

“Where did you find that?” Steve questioned with a smile on his face. He hadn’t seen that list in forever.

“I was going through some stuff a while back and found it in a box in the back of my closet.” Bucky said. He was also smiling.

“God, I think I made this my senior year?”

“Yep, on prom night after your date ditched you and we decided to get drunk at a park instead.” The two old timers laughed at the memory. Y/n couldn’t help but smile and giggle with them. She loved seeing this side of them. It was so un-Avengers like.

“Buck went on and crossed out anything you’ve already done, like win a metal of armor or,” she pointed to one of the lines and chuckled, “fly in an airplane, and crossed out things that aren’t relevant, like meeting FDR. Anyways, today, Steven Grant Rogers, you are going to complete your bucket list. Well, as much as we can complete before your party at eight.”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh, Dixie Chick serious.” Y/n said. Steve only understood the Pitch Perfect reference because Y/n forced him to watch it on several occasions. Even though he wasn’t a fan, he liked spending the time with Y/n. She was such a touchy person that they’d almost always end up cuddling in some way, shape, or form on the couch, especially if one of them fell asleep. Honestly, if it weren’t for Y/n, Steve would still be very poorly versed in modern pop culture.

She handed the list to Steve, “Pick which one you want to do first.” He scanned the list, looking for something that stood out to him. He didn’t know which item he wanted to do the most, so he did what any indecisive adult does: he placed the paper on the table, closed his eyes, circled his finger around the paper, and placed his finger on a random spot. He opened his eyes to find his finger on item ten: get a tattoo.

“The finger has spoken.” Y/n joked.

“What’s it saying?” Sam asked.

Steve cleared his throat and dramatically read it. There wasn’t a member in the group that wasn’t super excited. The fossil known as Steve Rogers was going to get a tattoo today.

“Do you even know what you’d get?” Bucky questioned.

Steve chuckled, “Actually no.”

“You could add a layer of excitement and let someone pick it for you.” Nat suggested. Steve mulled the idea over in his head; it would be exciting and spontaneous, both things Steve was notorious for.

“I don’t trust any of you to pick something that will be on my body permanently.”

“Eenie meenie minie mo it.” Y/n recommended.

“Well seeing as you’re the only person at this table with a tattoo, I guess I’d trust your judgment the most.” Steve said, motioning to Y/n. Her face transformed into one of shock. She was certain he would have asked Bucky to pick it out for him, seeing as they were best friends.  

“Wait, you don’t want your best friend since high school to pick it for you?” She asked.

“I know nothing about tattoos, especially tattoos in this day and age. You’re the man for this job, Y/n.” Bucky replied. Y/n sighed at the heavy load on her shoulders. She had to pick the perfect first tattoo for Steve.

“Are you okay with that?” Steve asked.

“Oh, definitely. Just give me…an hour to think of something and draw it up.” She got up from the table but turned back to the group before she left, “I can’t go to a tattoo shop and not get one, so Steve, since I’m picking one for you, you have to pick one for me.”

Steve tried his best to hide a smile that was creeping onto his face, but he wasn’t doing a good job. Honestly, he was kind of flattered that Y/n wanted him to pick a tattoo for her. It didn’t help that he was helplessly in love with Y/n, either. To Steve, deciding a tattoo for her was an intimate and personal thing. Y/n was a thoughtful person and deserved a thoughtful tattoo.

“Aye, aye captain.” Steve said.

After their allotted hour passed, Steve and Y/n jumped into the car to head to a shop outside of Manhattan. The others decided not to come so they wouldn’t overcrowd the shop. The shop was owned by one of Y/n’s college friends, so she had been there before and knew it wouldn’t take long. It was also the only place open on a holiday.

To add even more excitement to the experience, Y/n and Steve decided they weren’t going to show each other what they picked out. It took a lot of trust, but Y/n trusted Steve more than anyone else. She knew he wouldn’t pick something she wouldn’t like.

“Is that Y/n Y/L/n?” A guy at the front desk with huge gauges in his ears and sleeves of tattoos on both of his arms asked when the pair walked in.

“Live and in the flesh.” She said as she ran over to give him a hug. “How’ve you been Nic?”

“Eh, can’t complain, just working mostly. What about you?”

“Good, good. Yeah, I actually got recruited to the Avengers about a year ago.”

“No shit, that’s awesome! Always knew you’d go far with that brain of yours.” Nic grinned from ear to ear. Y/n was a genius in school, and though she wasn’t technically a superhero, she was an incredibly useful asset to the Avengers team. Tony recruited her after hearing her graduate school thesis defense on using magnetic waves as intergalactic communication. Tony thought this was important after Thor and Bruce disappeared for months. Her research ended up being crucial for a lot of the work Stark Industries was doing.  

“Yeah and this is my partner in crime!” Y/n gestured to Steve.

Nic looked starstruck as his brain processed who was in front of him, “Holy shit, you’re Captain America!” Nic stuck his hand out and Steve shook it hesitantly. He didn’t really want to be nice to someone who appeared to be flirting with Y/n, but this was also the man who was going to permanently paint his skin.

“Pleasure.” Steve said coyly.

“Steve’s actually here to get a tattoo.” Y/n told Nic, breaking the awkward interaction between Nic and Steve.

“Righteous! What are you wanting to get?”

“We actually picked out tattoos for each other, and we want it to be a surprise.” Steve said.

With that, Y/n offered to go first since she knew what the experience would be like and apparently, her tattoo wouldn’t take as long as Steve’s would. Y/n let Steve pick out the spot too, and he picked her inner bicep on her right arm. Steve put a blindfold over her eyes too so she wouldn’t be able to take a peek at it.  

“Alright, you ready?” Nic asked.

“Born ready.”

The engine of the tattoo gun hummed deliciously, sending chills up Y/n’s spine. The things people said about getting tattoos were true: once you get one, you can’t stop. It was less painful than it was irritating, but was worth it in the end. Your body is a temple and you should be able to decorate it the way you want. That’s why Y/n had so many tattoos (she had nine and this would be her tenth).

After about thirty minutes, Nic wiped the tattoo one more time. “Okie dokie, you’re done! Go look.” Y/n took off her blindfold and practically ran to the mirror, Steve right on her heels. It was a triangle with a black and white mountain landscape inside the triangle. In between two of the mountain peaks was a rising sun with cute little sun rays coming off of it. There were trees lining the bottom of the mountains with delicate flowers underneath some of the trees. Y/n audibly gasped when she saw it.

Instantly, she knew why Steve picked this tattoo. Y/n very rarely went on missions with the Avengers because, unlike Tony, she didn’t have a super suit. However, one time, they had a mission in Wakanda and needed all hands on deck. Y/n worked in the lab with King T’Challa’s sister, Shuri, on some new technology. During this trip, they had a little downtime, and Y/n really wanted to explore since she had never been to Wakanda. Steve and Y/n went on an expedition to the mountains and they hiked to the highest peak. They had some dinner and a bottle of wine while the sunset; it was absolutely breathtaking and romantic. It was also the first time Y/n realized she was in love with Steve, and the first time Steve realized the same about Y/n.

“Oh my god, I love it.” She whispered breathlessly. Words couldn’t even being to describe the love she felt. She turned from the mirror and threw her arms over Steve’s neck. His hands wrapped around her waist and held on tight- just the way Y/n liked it.

“Thank you.” She whispered in his ear. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to.

Nic finished cleaning up the mess he made during Y/n’s session and called Steve over to the chair. Steve let Y/n pick the location too, and since it was his first tattoo, she picked somewhere that wouldn’t be super obvious- his right shoulder.

Steve’s tattoo took almost an hour once all the shading and line work was said and done. Steve didn’t feel any pain but could tell with a simple glance that his skin was bright red. He jumped up and jogged to the mirror. His breath hitched in his throat when he saw the work of art forever etched into his skin. It was done in the traditional style, which was very common back during World War II, and he knew that’s why Y/n picked that style. The tattoo itself was an orange and red phoenix that was surrounded by a white ribbon that read “still I rise”.

The quote came from Steve’s favorite poem, “Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou. He first read it shortly after coming out of the ice, when he was catching up on things he missed. After meeting Y/n, who was very involved with civil rights issues, he gave the poem another read, and he realized the importance of it, not just for black people but for women as well. No, Steve was not a black person or a woman, but he grew up poor and sickly, was bullied his whole life, and was an orphan. He understood some of the struggles people could face. That poem resonated with him.

Adding the quote with the phoenix, the symbol of rebirth, was surreal for him. He knew that the phoenix was supposed to symbolize his return from the ice, to emphasize his resilience. The phoenix gave the quote even more personal meaning; like a phoenix from the ashes, still he’ll rise. Also, the traditional style was one of his favorites, and one of his best friends drew the tattoo.  

He was at a loss for words. It was everything he had expected and more. It was pretty badass, too, which was essential for America’s favorite superhero.

“You like?” Y/n asked at Steve’s unusual quietness. He turned from the mirror to face Y/n; their eyes made contact and it seemed like the world around them completely disappeared. It was just them, sharing this unintended intimate moment.

“It’s amazing. Thank you.” He said in an almost sultry voice. Chills ran up and down Y/n’s spine, and she did her best to conceal the shiver. It didn’t really go unnoticed by Steve.

A loud noise behind them pulled them from their weird trance. The noise was just Nic cleaning up and he accidentally dropped something. Y/n and Steve awkwardly paid and made their way back to the compound. Y/n stared at her saran-wrapped arm the whole ride home. She couldn’t get over how good it looked and how well it matched her aesthetic.

“You really do like it, right?” Y/n questioned, filling the silence in the car.

“No I hate it. I already scheduled an appointment to get it removed.” Steve traded a glance with Y/n. She laughed sarcastically.

After arriving home and showing the rest of the group their new tattoos, the group decided to tackle another bucket list item. This time, everyone could participate, since item fifteen- ride every ride at Coney Island- was something everyone could do. Coney Island had expanded a lot since Steve’s last go around on a rollercoaster there, so there would be plenty of fun to be had. They even bought express passes when they got there so they didn’t have to wait in the crazy long lines that holidays usually brought to Coney Island.

Y/n knew being back here would be weird for Steve and Bucky, since the last time they were here was back when Bucky went into the army. If it was bothering them though, they made no indication of such. The group was thankful for this because they could all have fun. Even the crowds were having fun seeing these large, built men and women trying to fit in the little rollercoaster carts.

The best part of Coney Island though was the photo booth that was set up near the food vendors. Y/n loved those things and excitedly tugged on Steve’s sleeve like a child when she saw it. “Can we do it, please?!” She begged. He tried to act like he didn’t want to do it, but Y/n knew he was just as excited as she was.

The photo booth was too small to fit anyone other than Steve and Y/n in it, but the others said they were fine with not being in the pictures. They climbed in the booth and Steve fed the machine a dollar, giving them no time to prepare the pictures. In the first one, Y/n slugged her arm around Steve’s neck and pulled him into a side hug while making whatever weird face she could. The second picture was of Y/n with her arm still around Steve, but she did bunny ears behind his head. The third picture was the funniest by far because when Y/n was removing her arm, she accidentally punched Steve in the face right when the camera clicked. They were laughing too hard to do anything for the last one.

When they saw the pictures though, Y/n knew instantly that the last one was her favorite. Her eyes were closed because she was laughing so hard, but Steve was staring at her with this look in his eyes, like he had never seen anything so beautiful. Y/n looked at the picture and saw love in Steve’s eyes. Of course, she didn’t say anything to Steve about it for fear of making things awkward. She was content, for the moment, with the fact that she knew what the look was about.

They stayed at the park until about six, when Y/n suggested they head back to the compound to get ready for the party. They packed into cars, drove to the Avengers compound, and went to their separate rooms. Y/n took a shower, making sure to wash her tattoo well, and dressed in a casual, but cute outfit. She knew she’d be doing a lot of dancing, plus no one dresses nicely for a fourth of July party. She put on a nice, loose navy top, denim shorts, and brown sandals. After dressing, she put a little bit of makeup and blow dried her hair. It was almost 7:30 by the time she was done.

When she was finished getting ready, she went out to the common room to finish setting up. Since they put up most of the decorations earlier, it was quick and easy. They just had to set up the food table and take the cake out to thaw. They also got coolers filled with alcohol ready.

Steve came out not too much later, dressed in a gray v-neck and dark blue jeans. The shirt was cut just right, so anyone looked at him would see a good bit of his defined chest, and his jeans hugged him in all the right places. His hair was still messy and wet from his shower, and Y/n could tell he touched up his beard a bit. Y/n had one thought when she saw him: snack. He was looking so delicious she just wanted to grab a fork and dig in.

“Is anyone home?” Steve waved his hand in front of Y/n’s face. Apparently, she had zoned out while she was thinking about all the things she’d do to Steve if she could.

“What?” She shook her head to bring her back to reality- and sanity.

“Do you need help?”

She glanced at the time on her phone. It was about ten minutes until eight, which is when people were supposed to show up. All the Avengers were there already, as was some none Avengers like Scott Lang, Maria Hill, and Sharon Carter. Y/n was wary about inviting Sharon since Steve had a weird history with her, but he said that they both agreed to just be friends. Y/n hoped things wouldn’t get awkward between the two tonight.

At eight o’clock sharp, people started to file into the large room. The walls vibrated from all the noise and the temperature in the room seemed to skyrocket. Never before had this many people occupied this room, and none of the Avengers really knew how to feel about it. It was exciting, but weird. Thankfully, the alcohol was flowing and for most of them, that was a good thing. Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky couldn’t get drunk, but that didn’t mean the others couldn’t have some fun.

Y/n was feeling a pretty good buzz by about nine o’clock. The sun had set completely by that point, and firework shows all around the city were starting. Most of the party guests had moved on to the deck- except for one. Y/n found Steve resting on the balcony outside of his room, which was away from everyone else.

“Why is the birthday boy not at his own party?” She asked when she found him. He jumped, not expecting someone to walk up behind him.

“Jesus, Y/n, you scared me.”

She apologized as she took the seat next to him. “What are you doing out here? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Hiding from you.” He said jokingly. “No, I just needed a minute. Lots of people.”

“Oh I know right. I did not expect this many people to say yes.” She took a swig of her drink Sam made for her; he called it “the Capsicle” and boy was it strong. She handed the cup to Steve but he shook his head no. “Suit yourself.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a little bit just watching the fireworks explode all over the city. Steve was the first person to break the silence, “You know, I used to love fireworks. I used to act like they were a little birthday present for me.”

“Dude, you’re the human embodiment of America. These fireworks are for America, so in some ways, they are for you.”

“It’s not the same anymore. Maybe I’m just an old man, but they’re too loud nowadays…reminds me of bombs.”

“So why are you out here alone then?”

“I’m not alone now am I?”

“No one’s ever truly alone, especially you Steve. You have an army of people behind you that would do anything for you. That includes distracting you from things you don’t like. Why do you think I threw you this party?” Y/n said sincerely. She would genuinely do anything for him. She knew only a handful of others that she would do just about anything for. The great thing was she knew Steve would do the same for her in a heartbeat.

Steve looked at her, waiting for her answer. She rolled her eyes, “I knew you didn’t like fireworks, so I threw a huge party with all these people hoping it would distract you. But then you had to come out here and be all mope-y and brooding…defeats the purpose.”

Steve stared at her, similar to the way he looked at her during their photo booth shoot. She had the biggest heart of anyone he knew; she was so compassionate, empathetic, and loving. She always found the positives in life, even when the whole world around her was dark.

“Thank you for the party…actually for everything.” Steve said so quietly that the moment turned from friendly to intimate. Steve was being sincere and he needed Y/n to know that. “You’ve completely changed my life since Stark recruited you, and I know the others feel the same.”

Y/n was touched but found it hard to believe. “You’re just saying that.”

Steve angled his body so he was facing Y/n directly; Y/n mimicked his body language unconsciously. “No, I mean it. Y/n, you keep us human. You help to remind us, to remind me, that there is still good out there. Every moment, no matter how terrible, has something positive about it. Stark has said multiple times that Stark Industries and the Avengers would not be where they are today if it weren’t for the work you’re doing. And he’s not just talkin’ about work in the lab. You’ve changed every one of us in some way. Stark’s nicer, Bucky smiles more because of your dumb jokes, Wanda’s more sociable-”

Y/n cut him off, “And you? What could I possibly change about you?” She had to know since his opinion of here was the one she cared about most.

Steve stared into her eyes. He knew what he wanted to say, but didn’t know if now was the time. If Y/n has taught her anything though, it was that life is short. ‘Embrace life’s brevity’ was what she said early. She was right- Steve needed to embrace life’s brevity. He never knew if he was going to get another tomorrow, or even another tomorrow with her.  

The words ran off his tongue, like these were the words he was always meant to say, “You’ve helped me fall helplessly in love with you…not that that was hard to begin with.”

Y/n was dumbfounded. Out of all the ways she imagined tonight to go down, Steve admitting he was in love with her was not one of them.

“What?” She said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Y/n, I’m in love with you, and I have been since I met you. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin things, and because things are just so great the way they are, but I can’t deny myself the simple pleasure of admitting my feelings to my best girl.”

Y/n blushed a hundred shades of red and felt tears sting her eyes. She couldn’t believe that he was being sincere. Captain America was in love with her- a nerd from upstate New York with a bad temper and the coordination of a baby deer. Steve Rogers, in all his 6’0” glory, was in love with her. It just didn’t make sense. Yes, she was completely head over heels for him, but for him to feel the same way felt foreign.

Y/n was sure she was dreaming, but even if it was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up anytime soon.  

Steve was taken aback by her silence. He was sure she felt the same way; all the signs were there. He was starting to grow embarrassed at the thought of him emptying his heart out to someone who didn’t feel the same way.

He opened his mouth to say something, but in a moment of pure courage (and maybe with some help from the alcohol), Y/n crossed the space between them. She took Steve’s face between her hands and brought his lips to hers, crashing them together in a kiss that knocked the wind from her lungs. On instinct, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her onto his lap while her hands found their way around his neck and into his hair.

The stolen kiss tasted like salt but felt sweet as chocolate. It was passionate, fervent, and delicious, but also delicate. It felt like worlds were colliding in the kiss. Neither one of them really wanted to pull away but had to once breathing became more difficult.

“I love you, too.” Y/n whispered lovingly after a few moments had passed. She cupped his face gently and stared longingly into his eyes. Oh, how she had waited for this moment. She pulled him into another, calmer kiss. She smiled a playful grin, “Come on, time to open your present.”

She climbed off his lap and pulled him up by his hand. “Oh really? What is it?”

“It’s less of a what, and more of a who.” She replied seductively. Steve was no longer fighting her grip and let her drag him into his bedroom.

“Happy birthday, Cap.” She whispered before they became consumed with lust, with each other’s bodies. They found their way between the silk sheets and for a moment, everything was exactly as it should be: pure and raw and full of love.

Tagged: @mickeyimagines